Drive
by Erikthephantom07
Summary: Clu had always driven.  Pre- Tron : Legacy.


Drive

"Do you want to drive?"

Flynn honest-to-God stopped in his tracks. Which was, to be even more honest, incredibly stupid. Though the terrain was rocky and littered with debris, it belied the smooth pixellation underneath. Stopping in your tracks in non-rubber soles walking at a pace of about 5.63 km/h on a surface with approximately .005% traction was, it turned out, a bad idea. Flynn skidded, and then fell flat on his back. It wasn't pretty.

Quorra was worried (just like _he_ would be). Her wide eyes widened, her arched eyebrows flew to her low hairline. "Are you alright, Flynn?" She asked, rushing to his side.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off, trying to find some dignity as he scurried to his feet. "I didn't get a chance to work too much on this," he said, gesturing to the whole of the Off-Grid. "Obviously I needed to add traction."

Quorra nodded, her wide eyes now in awe (as _he _had been). In awe of Him as Creator. As a Divine. Flynn had secretly loved that, which is probably why _he_ now obviously loved it.

"I'll drive, Flynn," Quorra said, just as he'd always said.

"No, I'll drive, Quorra, I want to."

Quorra didn't seem convinced, but she let begrudgingly let him (just as _he'd_ have done).

Flynn sat in the driver's seat. Switched it into gear. Didn't move. Quorra was staring at him with concern (_he'd_ done that). Flynn blinked at the off-grid around him. Everything looked the same out there. The same.

Clu had always driven. He'd insisted, said Flynn needed to preserve his strength and keep his mind on the important things. He'd look at Flynn with wide eyes, all love and understanding, saying with utmost sincerity, "You are everything."

Flynn would be right here, in the passenger seat, expanding on his ideas for this world he'd created, visions of a perfect future and Clu, all wide-eyed innocence and love, would listen and nod enthusiastically. "Great ideas, Flynn." "You're right on, Flynn." "Anything for you, Flynn."

Quorra reminded him of Clu, in weird ways. The eyes, obviously. Clu's eyes were physically the same as Flynn's but their expressions - devotion, love, even adoration - were all Clu. He did everything, moved every mountain, diverted every obstacle, for his vision. For Flynn.

The mannerisms, too. The odd tilt of the head every now and then, knowing everything and yet understanding little.

The books. God, the books. He used to tell him stories, just like he'd tell Sam, those nights that seemed to last forever in the Grid. He'd tell Clu. Jules Verne, which Quorra loves. Tolstory, Dickens, Shakespeare, Sun-Tzu, for God's sake. Everything he could think of. And Clu would eat it up. Wide-eyed as ever, mouth slightly open, hanging on every word. And Flynn loved it. He loved those moments almost as much as he loved those moments with Sam. Sam had innocence and would then grow into a man. Clu, Clu was pure innocence. Stuck in the moment of creation, he'd only ever learn but never mature. Absorb but never change. With the death of his mother, Sam was looking more and more human and less like a child, which, of course, was terrifying to Flynn, who didn't want to those that innocent child. He spent more time in the Grid, more time telling stories, more time with Clu, the child who would never grow up.

God, he should have known. He should have seen this coming. The betrayal, if you could even call it that. Clu was made to seek perfection, by a god who was doing the same. Christ, he'd ruined this, hadn't he?

Flynn had to laugh, at least a little. Talk about a personal revelation. Flynn was watching himself fall into darkness without actually, physically doing it himself. Definitely made for interesting meditation sessions, which he was finding more and more useful in his imprisonment.

"Are you alright, Flynn?" Quorra asked, all concern and affection (just like _him_).

In the second loss of dignity of the night, day, or whatever the hell time it was, Flynn choked up. Dammit, of all the things to do in front of someone who views you as god. "Yes, Quorra," he said quietly, staring at the pixels outside, "you can drive."

She nodded, accepting this order without question (just like _he_ would have done), and took the wheel. Flynn sat back in the passenger's seat. As the pixels rushed past, he could think of no ideas to enumerate upon. No stories to tell. Nothing came to mind.

-#####-########-

Author's Note: Ok, I just finished seeing the movie tonight, I've had a beer, I've been listening to Adagio for Tron, and I haven't been able to get Clu out of my head. I can't sleep when I'm like this, so there. I'm making all of you innocent readers suffer for my insomnia. But seriously, the dynamic between Flynn and Clu was incredible. Next time I have Milwaukee's Best Ice (I know) and listen to Daft Punk, maybe I'll write something else about them.


End file.
